


I Feel Helpless

by earthseraph



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst, Engagement, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Momentary Breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: Made with love for Charles. The person who will always be by my side.
 A lump forms in Charles throat as he reads the tag, tears prickling behind his eyes. He looks inside the ring and sure enough, it’s engraved.    We are not alone. “Oh, fuck,” Charles chokes out, a tear slipping from his eyes.(Or: We Broke Up But I Found A Ring And It All Makes Sense)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/gifts).



> This is for the super amazing [Ikeracity](http://ikeracity.tumblr.com/) for Cherik Secret Santa! I'm honored that I got to write for you and sorry that it wasn't the cop au. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Title from [Helpless by Sir Sly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdihudnIGLU)

The air in the room seems too still, too stale. The sheets are pulled back where the bed hasn’t been made in over a week, rumpled from two people lazing in it before a day at work. There’s clothes flowing out of the hamper, a dress sock by the closet door where it got lost on its way to the dirty clothes. Stray pieces of metal line the dresser and the night stands, something mindless to play with for someone so mindful. There’s pictures of smiling faces, of hands entwined, and warm embraces hung on the walls. The room looks happy, the people in the pictures look happy, but one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

If he closes his eyes and thinks hard enough, traces the tendrils of air that hold people’s thoughts, he can almost feel his mind again. He can feel the almost calming, deep strum of Erik’s mind. He can feel the way Erik’s mind would curl around his in greeting and stay there until too much distance was put between their minds and the strain was too hard to keep them together. If he thinks hard enough it’s almost like Erik is right next to him, like his life is back to normal. But his life isn’t normal anymore, and Erik isn’t next to him. Erik’s gone.

Charles sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, resting his shoulder against the door jamb. He hasn’t been in this room since the day Erik left and he doesn’t want to ever go back in, either. There’s too many memories of what was and what could have been. Too many pieces of a person left behind that he doesn’t want to touch or look at. So much that he wishes, just for a moment, that he could wipe his own mind of those thoughts before remembering how warm they feel at times. He needs to go into the room, though, he needs to remove those pieces from his life and not look back. 

Just because Erik was his soulmate doesn’t mean he was Erik’s, Charles thinks, his lips slightly twisted at the thought. 

Instead of wallowing in self pity, Charles pushes himself away from the jamb and picks up the stack of folded boxes next to his feet. While Erik’s sent him one too many texts asking if he could come over and pick up his things Charles would rather he not come into the apartment again. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the silence that rolls off Erik’s mind. It would physically hurt him to feel where Erik’s severed their mental connection, it would be worse than slap in the face. So here he is, boxes in hand, ready to pack up all of Erik’s belongings and drop them off at Edie’s house when he knows Erik won’t be there.

Charles makes a mental outline of the room: first the closet, then the dresser, and finally Erik’s bedside table. He nods to himself and starts unfolding a box. 

The closet’s split in half, one side his own and the other Erik’s. While it does make Charles’ task easier, looking at all the familiar pieces of clothing Erik used to wear makes a lump form in Charles’ throat. He knows it’s irrational to get this emotional over someone’s clothes but he’s still a little raw. It’s only been a week since they broke up, but they were together for years. Three amazing years of dating that Charles will never regret but now saddens at the thought of. He knows the breakup was partially his fault, and that he should probably have another talk with Erik, but he doesn’t know if he could deal with another round of fighting. He’d rather pack up all of Erik’s things, not talk to Erik, than talk to Erik, have another fight, and deal with his closed off mind.

Thankfully, Erik has a very minimal set of clothes. He was never one to buy needlessly like Charles, but instead invested his money in simple pieces of good quality garments. Every sweater that Charles takes off the hanger is soft and well kept. All Erik’s button downs are silky smooth without a wrinkle to be seen, his slacks the same. Sure he has some miscellaneous pieces like workout clothes, university shirts, and things that Charles thought he’d like but it’s nothing like the mix of colors and qualities on Charles’ side of the closet. Charles isn’t sure if Erik wants to keep some of the more sentimental pieces- like the ugly christmas-slash-hanukkah sweaters they made the year prior-but he’s not about to keep some of Erik’s possessions. No matter how much he wants to.

The closet looks too bare when Charles finishes folding the clothes up into boxes. The hangers are empty, no longer serving their purpose, resting on the rail waiting for clothes to be put on them. Charles knows when he spreads his clothes out to the other side the closet won’t look half empty, but that action feels too soon. It’s just clothes, just material items that he’d be sliding from one side of the closet to the other. Just one little action that probably means nothing to everyone but him. If he puts his clothes on Erik’s side of the closet then it’s setting in stone that Erik’s not coming back. It’s making their breakup real and blowing out the hope that Erik _could_ come back that’s dimly lit in Charles’ heart. He knows he shouldn’t hope, not when the ending was so ugly, but it’s all he has right now. Hope for both that Erik will want to try again, and that if Erik doesn’t he’ll be able to move on. 

Charles shakes his head, too many emotions over clothes, and leaves the closet. The dresser is a large eight drawer thing, half of the drawers his and half Erik’s own. He’s never really looked through Erik’s dresser drawers when they were together. Not because Erik restricted him from doing so but because Erik was always the one to do laundry in exchange for Charles to wash dishes and take out the trash. It was a fair division of chores, in Charles’ opinion, and because of them he’s never had to look through Erik’s sock drawers. He decides to go from the bottom up, wanting to spend as little time kneeling as possible. He’s not a spry twenty something anymore, and it reflects in his joints. 

The bottom drawer seems to be full of miscellaneous items. There’s pens, random papers, and other junk pieces layered on top of each other. Instead of sorting through the items and gently placing them in a box like he did with Erik’s clothes, he takes handfuls of things out of the drawer and sets them in the box. 

He’s nearly done with the drawer when he sees it.

Tucked into the corner of the drawer is a little velvet box. It’s black, inconspicuous, and Charles would have never noticed it if he hadn’t been the one cleaning out the drawer. Thoughts quickly flash through his mind some are idiotic ( _was there someone other than me?_ ) and some more reasonable ( _was this for me?_ ). He’s hesitant when he goes to pick up the box, hand shaking a bit, and his breath speeding up. 

The velvet is soft when his fingers brush against it as he picks the box up in his hand. He leans away from the drawer on his hanches and holds the box to his chest for a moment. After some deep breathing and wondering why he’d find the box after their relationship was over, he opens the box. The ring inside is a simple silver, it’s placed on an off white cushion with a little tag strung to the silver. Carefully, Charles pulls the ring out. 

_Made with love for Charles. The person who will always be by my side._

A lump forms in Charles throat as he reads the tag, tears prickling behind his eyes. He looks inside the ring and sure enough, it’s engraved. 

_We are not alone._

“Oh, fuck,” Charles chokes out, a tear slipping from his eyes.

It all makes sense now. The way Erik was acting that lead up to their fight. The way Erik pleaded with Charles via voicemail, asking if he could come over and take his things. Everything makes sense now.

He looks down at the ring, not daring to slip the silver on his finger when he might not be able to keep it there permanently. There’s hope growing larger in his heart but he’s not sure if he’s too late. With that in mind Charles pushes himself up off the floor. He’s going to fix this, he’s going to get Erik back.

* * *

_One week ago..._

Charles isn’t sure what he did wrong. 

They’re eating breakfast in silence save for the news on the TV in the living room. Charles is slowly scooping mouthfuls of cereal into his mouth, Erik sipping at his meal of black coffee. The silence doesn’t come only from their not speaking, but also from the massive shields Erik’s had up since last week. It’s deafening, confusing, and it almost hurts Charles’ head. He’s so used to being able to hear Erik’s thoughts about how clear Anderson Cooper’s glasses are, or how much he’d rather be back in bed, that not being able to is odd. 

He hasn’t asked why Erik’s put up these shields for the first time in years. Both out of fear that he’s actually done something wrong, and hope that Erik would get over whatever he’s going through and drop them. He hasn’t dropped them, though, and Charles doesn’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. 

Charles places his spoon down in his bowl slowly. There are nerves sparking in his stomach and he’s not sure why. He hasn’t been nervous to talk to Erik since he asked him to move in over a year ago. Maybe it’s the raised shields, or the fact that Erik feels so far despite sitting across the table, but Charles is undeniably nervous. 

“Erik,” Charles says softly, “can we talk?”

Erik looks up from his coffee with a raised eyebrow, “Yes.”

Charles can’t even feel a hint of curiosity, or that usual wave of calm that would soothe Charles in a moment like this. Instead of dancing around the question he decides to get it over with and ask, “Why are your shields up?”

Erik frowns and angles himself towards Charles, “Can I not have my shields up?” He asks, a shard of anger lacing his tongue. 

“Is there a reason you have your shields up?” He asks, mirroring Erik’s frown, “Did I do something wrong?” He’s tried to think of all the things he’s done in the past week or so that could have forced Erik to do this. What could he have done that would push Erik this far as to raise his shields again? He doesn’t know. He’s drawn blanks. He’s been under the impression that they were both at their happiest, maybe he was wrong.

“No reason.” Erik shrugs, nonchalantly, “I just decided to raise them.”

“You just decided to raise them,” he repeats slowly. It feels like Charles just got punched in the stomach. 

Memories of all the people that have told him over the years that he was untrustworthy because he was a telepath flood his mind in vivid color. Memories of a board member at Cambridge questioning how he gained his degrees, implying that it was through mind reading and manipulating instead of Charles’ own intelligence. Memories of people jumping to conclusions about his moral standards and not wanting to be within distance of him since he could read their mind. Even the memory of a young man with a slight German accent giving him complete access to his mind, telling him that he wasn’t alone and never had to be, makes a flash appearance.

Erik nods, “I did.”

There’s a bitter taste in Charles’ mouth and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to feel worried that Erik doesn’t trust him anymore. He doesn’t want to feel like he needs to justify his every action in order to show Erik that he’s not manipulating him, that he’s not crossing any set boundaries. He doesn’t want to have to feel that way with the person he lives with, with the person he loves. He’s never had to feel this way with Erik, so why should he have to start doing so now?

“So, no reason other than you wanting to?” Charles asks again, hoping that the answer’s different. Hoping that maybe there’s some logical reason for Erik doing this.

“I wanted some privacy in my own mind, Charles,” Erik says, “I didn’t- and don’t- want you snooping in there, so I put up my shields.”

The bitter taste is still in his mouth, the punch to his stomach starts to bruise, there’s nothing more to feel. Hearing that he’s not trusted by the person he loves the most makes him feel cold and numb numb. Of course people believing he’s untrustworthy comes with being a telepath, but Erik’s never felt that way. He’s never asked Charles not to use his mutation or to limit himself in his presence. Maybe he should have been prepared for this day to come.

Charles gets up from the table and takes his bowl with him, placing it in the sink with his back to Erik. He grips the edge of the counter for a moment and takes in deep breaths. He’s feeling too many emotions at once. Betrayal that Erik would do this so late on in their relationship, sorrow that it had to come to this, and acceptance that it had to happen. 

“I think you should leave.” His voice cracks but he ignores it, he’s going to stay strong until Erik’s gone.

“Charles-”

“-Leave Erik,” Charles says, raising his voice, “just go.”

There’s a short moment of silence, “If you’re going to be this petty when I ask for privacy then I should have long ago.” 

Charles doesn’t let himself flinch at the words. He can hear Erik setting his cup down on the table and the shuffle of him grabbing his briefcase and coat from the foyer before leaving. He lets out a shaky breath, still holding on to the counter, and allows a tear to slip from his eyes. 

Now, he’s completely in silence.

* * *

_Now_

Charles’ nerves must be bubbling over his mental barrier as he rings the doorbell to Edie’s brownstone. He doesn’t know whether he’s being just or naive for coming, but either way he’s already here. 

It doesn’t take long for Edie to answer the door. She stands there for a moment and looks him over. Instead of shutting the door in his face or yelling at him for breaking her only child’s heart she holds out a hand and gives him a small smile. 

“Charles,” she says softly, “how have you been?”

Charles takes the hand and smiles back, some of the nerves float away. “I haven’t been the best, I can admit. How have you been?”

She shrugs a shoulder, still holding his hand, “I have had my better weeks.”

Charles hope she’s being nice to him because Erik still loves him and not out being polite. “Is Erik here?” He asks, not wanting to reach out for that familiar mind. If Erik’s shields are still up he doesn’t want to feel the cold steel of them. It would hurt too much.

Edie nods, “Come in, Charles. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

He lets go of her hand as he steps into the foyer and watches her make her way down the hall. There isn’t much he can do but stand and look at the patterned carpet under his shoes seeing as he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to make himself at home like he used to. 

The ring feels heavy in his pocket as he waits for Erik. There’s a part of him that’s worried that Erik’s not going to want to see him. He worries that the ring isn’t meant for him anymore and that he came here for no reason other than to get hurt again. But then there’s that other part of him that’s filled with hope that both he and Erik made a mistake, that last week was nothing but a misunderstanding.

The wooden floor behind him creaks and Charles turns around. It hasn’t been that long since he last saw Erik, only over a week, but it feels longer. Erik’s in one of his trade mark turtlenecks and a pair of soft looking jeans. There’s ginger stubble around his face where he’s let his hair grow out, something uncommon for Erik but that Charles loves. He wants to reach out and touch his face, feel warmth and rough stubble beneath his fingertips, but he doesn’t give in to his wants. Instead he stands still and waits for Erik to make the first move, not wanting to cross any unseen boundaries. 

“Charles,” Erik says, his is voice soft. That’s a good sign.

“Erik,” he replies, his tongue slightly tied. Charles wants to take a step forward. He wants to let the tendrils of his mind seek out Erik’s, but like before he doesn’t.

Erik holds his gaze before flicking his eyes away, “Mom said you had something to talk to me about?”

“Oh,” right to it then, “yes.” Charles takes in a deep, shaky breath before sticking his hand into his coat pocket. He slowly pulls out the velvet box and holds it between his hands, the fabric smooth against his fingertips. He hears Erik’s sharp intake of breath in front of him, but elects to ignore it. He wants to get a good look at the box, at what could have been, because it could all be taken away from him in a moment. 

“You found the ring,” Erik states simply.

Charles looks up from the box and nods. “I did.” 

They’re both silent for a moment. Erik’s looking down at the box while Charles is looking up at him. He doesn’t rush Erik to speak but patiently waits. He knows this is as much of a surprise to Erik as it was to him. If Erik put his shields up and hid the ring, he must have wanted to guarantee that Charles wouldn’t have found it. While it was a stupid move on Erik’s part, Charles understands.

“Did you want it back?” Charles asks after a moment, fingers tracing patterns into the soft velvet.

“Do you want me back?” Erik asks, not answering the question.

“Of course I want you back, Erik, how could I not?” Charles shakes his head, “But what happened last week, I don’t know if I can deal with you doing that to me again.” Even if he understands Erik’s motives and good intent being so abruptly shut off hurt and confused him. He doesn’t want to go through that again.

Erik sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t mean to-- that wasn’t--” he inhales sharply, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Charles.”

“Then why did you have your shields up?” Charles knows why Erik did it, but he needs to make sure. He needs to be positive that Erik didn’t do it out of malintent. 

“I wanted to keep the ring a secret,” Erik says, motioning to the box, “I knew you’d be able to read the excitement off me before it was time to tell you and I didn’t want that to happen.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that day we fought, Erik? You could have just told me.” They could have avoided the fight and the week long breakup if Erik had told him the truth. They probably would have been a disgustingly happy engaged couple right now, thinking about dates and venue options. They wouldn’t have to be here in Edie’s foyer, both of them on uneven ground, both of them hurting and unsure of the other’s intentions. 

Erik looks down at his feet, sticking both hands in his jean pockets. “I doubted myself and saw the fight as an out.” He looks up at Charles and gently shrugs his shoulders, “I still want to marry you, I still love you, but all I could think is ‘what if he doesn’t love me as much?’- and not because you haven’t shown me love-” he adds quickly, “but because I’ve never pictured a life for myself that would be this good.”

“You self destructive idiot,” Charles mumbles, rolling his eyes, before taking a step forward. He pulls Erik down by the front of his shirt with the hand not holding the ring box and kisses him. It’s nothing fiery or intense, just their lips pressing together, but it feels great. He ‘s missed Erik deeply in their time apart and because being so close to Erik is second nature to him, he lets his mind wonder. 

Charles pulls away from Erik with a gasp at the touch of their minds. He can feel every thought running through Erik’s mind. The unmistakable feeling of love, the deep cavern of longing, even the hint of Erik’s surprise at their kiss. Charles wants to drink in every thought, he wants to stay connected with Erik’s mind this deeply for hours and just feel Erik’s mind in his own. He wouldn’t call Erik’s mind an addiction because addictions are inherently negative, but it’s something close to that. Addition is the closest word he has to what he feels for Erik and his mind.

“Charles,” Erik breathes, his warm hands now cupping Charles’ face, “marry me.”

It’s not a question and Charles doesn’t want it to be. “Okay.” Charles nods, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Erik wiggles the box free from Charles’ hand and opens it. 

Charles watches as Erik looks over the ring. He still has a link of mental connection with Erik and can feel where he traces over the ring’s metal with his mind, following the loops of engraving inside it and smoothing over the shiny surface. Erik lifts ring out of the box with his power and slips the box back into his pocket. He undoes the tag on the ring, putting it in his pocket following the box, and holds the ring between his fingers.

Already knowing the next step, Charles lifts his left hand and lets Erik slide the cool sliver onto his ring finger. For a moment they both hold their breath as they look down at the ring. Charles can feel the love and excitement radiating off of Erik, and it’s intoxicating. He can’t help but radiate the same emotions back with a grin on his lips that Erik mirrors.

“I need to get you a matching one,” Charles mumbles.

“No ring matches this one because I made it.”

Charles looks up at Erik, eyebrow raised. “Sap.”

Erik’s grin widens. “You love it.”

“I do,” Charles says, grinning at his pun, “To no longer being alone?” Charles asks. He knows there are still things they have to talk through, like Erik’s self destructive tendencies, but that can wait. Right now he wants to rub his finger against the ring and change their relationship status on Facebook to _engaged_ instead of _it’s complicated_.

Erik nods in agreeance, still holding Charles’ hand, “To no longer being alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblogable post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/155002226870/i-feel-helpless-by-earthseraph-pesmenos-for)


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